Memory Proximity-Mine

We saw two very different things outside that police van today. The first thing I saw were the handcuffs. I had no focus on the man. You drew my attention to the man, laughing it off with life could be worse, could be that guy. Then I saw him. But I did not see him. I saw the man in my apartment in Stockholm that night in December. The situation was so different, but I saw so many similarities. Once again I focused on the handcuffs. I focused on them because I wished they were on him. I wish the police then could have placed them on him, because I did not deserve to have another sick twisted man walk away with no consequences. He made me not ok. That whole week made me not ok. I fell apart again. The same way I did three years and nine months ago. I could do nothing but merely survive. There was no chance of anything more.

That right there stood out on the street was a memory proximity-mine.

Too close for comfort.

He too, had released memories. The trauma, the stress, the phone calls, the questions. It was happening again. Exactly as it had been all those years ago. I was in another country, again. I was scared, again. I could not eat or sleep. I was shaking. I had done nothing. I had not asked for any of it. I had not known them. If I had done wrong, I wish it could be talked about. I am a reasonable person. I will apologise or try to understand. I never know why me. You do not get to ask these things. There are so many things you will never get to say.

Life has this ridiculous way of throwing you all the things you may not want or need. When you think you can move on, you get constant reminders. You remember the good, the bad and everything in between. You have no choices about it. We become the product of all our experiences so everything is bound to affect everyone differently. I remember all of it. I will be continuously reminded and so I learn how to deal. I watched the doors shut and close of that police van. Then I let my mind shut the door on that memory.

That is how I move forward. I accept. I will not have the answers. I cannot ask why. I cannot say everything I have to. I wish they would read everything I write. I would want them to see the damage. They did this. I will focus on what I do, to what they did. I will be ok and whole. I will shake a lot less and even though bad things happen right outside my window, I will sleep and let my mind rest. I deal proudly and amazingly with all the memories I am unable to forget and have no chance of undoing.

 

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